The Spaces in Between
by AnneKB
Summary: Four little stories to fill in the gaps.


Disclaimer: I still don't own them. If I did, I'm sure my bank account would be bigger.

A/N: I was recently re-watching my Season Six DVD's, and a few ideas came to mind. None of them were very long, so I grouped them together, and here they are.

* * *

_The Spaces in Between _

It had been a while since Sara hadn't been able to sleep, but tonight was already shaping up to be one of those nights. She hated spending the night in hotels – it was always harder for her to sleep in a strange bed. She'd left a brand new botany textbook on her nightstand back at home, and right now she wished she had it – it would at least be something to occupy her mind.

Her cell phone rang, and she grabbed for it, grateful for the distraction.

"Hello?"

"Hey." It was Grissom.

"Hey," Sara said, trying to keep her voice light, "How's the body farm?"

"The class went well – I lost two students halfway through, though. I think it was the smell."

"Only two?" Sara teased.

"So what are you doing?" he asked.

"Lying here trying to sleep," Sara replied, "I'm starting to forget how to sleep alone."

"Me too," he said, surprising Sara with the admission.

"Really," Sara said.

"It's strange how quickly we become accustomed to things."

"Yeah," Sara agreed, nodding.

"How's the case going?"

"Um… it's going," Sara said, "Blood pools, but no bodies. We're waiting on DNA results to see whose blood is whose. We found a huge pot farm in the basement, though, so… there's motive."

"In the basement? With children in the house?"

"Yeah, I thought the same thing. But apparently they were part of a medical marijuana group."

"Still, it's a dangerous thing to have in your home."

"I thought so too. We spent forever in that house, you know. I've got black lung from all the print dust…" Sara stopped, remembering something Greg had said, "Tell me something, Grissom – do you think I need too much validation?"

"What?" he sounded confused.

"I told Greg I was really into gold stars as a kid, and he said 'as opposed to now?'"

"And Greg's opinion is important to you?"

"Well… no… I don't know."

"I don't know, dear," he said, "I think you don't get enough validation. Certainly not from me."

"Is that a confession?" Sara teased.

"It is," he said, "It's easy to confess when I'm not looking into your eyes."

"All right, then," Sara leaned back, "Continue confessing."

"I don't think I've ever appreciated you as I should," he said, "but I'm learning."

"You were appreciative the other day," Sara said, and smiled when she heard his soft chuckle on the other end.

"I would be appreciative tonight," he said, "I wish we weren't spending our evening on the phone."

"I wish you were here," Sara said, then pulled back – was that too much, too quickly? She hated how vulnerable her voice had sounded.

"I wish _you_ were _here_," he said, and Sara felt a rush of relief.

"Really?" she said, unsure of how far to push this, "Because… you said you felt suffocated."

"I never said that," he sounded surprised, "When did I say that?"

"In the bedroom, at the Lester house. A few weeks ago."

"Oh," he remembered, "I said they were suffocating each other. I was talking about the case."

"Really." Sara sounded as if she didn't believe him.

"Yes. You thought I was talking about us?"

"Yeah."

"So that's why you looked at me as if I'd just kicked your puppy."

"That's why I said we didn't need to sleep in the same bed to…"

"Right now, Sara, I would give my left arm to have you in this bed with me."

Sara felt a flush run over her face, and she couldn't suppress a giggle that she was sure sounded silly and adolescent.

"I admit," he continued, "It has been an adjustment for me, to get used to sharing space with someone, but with you… it feels natural, very comfortable."

"Yeah, well… we have spent a lot of time together over the years."

"I think it's because we fit each other," he said, sounding thoughtful, "There's an element of compatibility in any good relationship."

"Have you been reading psychology textbooks again?" Sara teased, and he laughed.

"A few. I brought one with me."

"You think we're compatible?" she asked.

"I know we are."

Sara felt flushed again. She wished he had said some of these things to her face instead of over the phone, but this was Grissom, after all.

"I've never felt as comfortable with any woman – with anyone – as I do with you, Sara. I do wish…"

Here he hesitated, and Sara waited. She was not going to interrupt him this time.

"I wish I had come to my senses earlier."

"You had your reasons," Sara said, trying not to melt into a puddle at those words – words she'd been waiting for, hoping to hear, words she had given up on. Grissom may have initiated the shift of their relationship to romantic months before, but a part of her was still uncertain about it. It was hard not to remember his blunt rejection of her, his unwillingness to risk changing his life for her.

"They seem unimportant now," he said.

"You sound very certain." Sara said, partly because he really did, and partly because she just wanted to hear him say more.

"I am," he said, "You have changed everything… and for the better."

Sara felt tears spring to her eyes, but she tried not to let him hear them.

"I think so, too," she said.

"It's late," he said, after a long pause, "You should get some sleep. You have another long day tomorrow, I'm sure."

"Yeah, you do too." Sara did not want to hang up the phone.

"I could talk to you all night," he said quietly, "But then I would worry about you tomorrow."

"You worry about me?" Sara asked.

"I worry that you don't get enough sleep," he said, "I know your propensity for insomnia."

"I'm fine," Sara said, "But I'm tired, actually." She suppressed a yawn, "Funny, I didn't think I'd be able to sleep tonight."

"Well… sleep well, my dear," he said, his voice taking on the intimate tone she was becoming more and more familiar with.

"You too," she said, "Good night."

"Good night, Sara."

Reluctantly, Sara turned her cell phone off. She had packed a blanket – she never trusted hotel bedding – and she pulled it out and snuggled under it, drawing the fabric close to her body. She went back over their conversation.

_You have changed everything…and for the better_.

Sara smiled to herself as she drifted off to sleep.

"_Gumdrops"_

* * *

"Did you hear my phone go off?"

"I wasn't paying attention."

"Where is my phone, anyway?" Sara looked around. Grissom took her chin in his hand.

"Does it matter?" he asked before kissing her, pushing her into the pillows.

"Not really," she murmured, returning the kiss, lacing her fingers through his and pushing back against his body.

"I've been waiting for this," she said, "It has been over a week."

"We were busy," Sara replied while he began kissing her neck, "We're still busy."

"We're not going to think about that," he said, pulling his head up and looking directly into her eyes, "Not right now."

"Whatever you say," Sara smiled. He met her smile with one of his own before returning his attention to her neck.

"Oh," Sara moaned, "Right there, that works for me…"

"I aim to please," Grissom said before shifting his attentions to the rest of her body.

"What a good way to spend dinner break," Sara whispered, and there was no more need for words as they moved together.

"It did go off," Sara said after she finally found her phone, which was still clipped to her belt loop, on the floor.

"You were on break." Grissom said, "You are allowed to take one."

Sara dialed her voicemail and listened for a few moments before clicking the phone off.

"That was Detective Curtis," she said, "She has something for me to process."

"I'm sure it wasn't urgent." He had a guilty look on his face.

"I'd better get going," Sara said reluctantly, as Grissom pulled her back on to the bed, into his arms.

"Yeah, you should," he said, but he didn't let go. Instead he kissed her, pulling her closer.

"I really have to go…" Sara whispered between kisses, "If you keep doing that I'll never want to leave."

"That's the idea," he said, but he let her go. Sara stood and began getting dressed, pulling underwear from her dresser drawer since what she'd worn into their bedroom was nowhere to be found. He lay back for a few minutes, watching her.

"Meet you back at the lab?" Sara asked as she finished getting dressed. She leaned back over the bed and met his lips in yet another kiss.

"I'll be waiting," he said, sliding out of bed and pulling his own clothes from the closet, "Go process for Sofia."

"_I've been waiting for you."  
_"_Sorry. I headed out as soon as I got your page."  
_"_Really? 'Cause I left a voicemail several hours ago."_

"_Werewolves"_

* * *

"You're going to give me beard burn again…" Sara whispered.

"I thought you liked it when I kissed your neck."

"I do… but I can't wear a scarf every day." Sara said, redirecting him from her neck to her own lips, savoring the taste of him for a long few moments. She raised her arms and ran her fingers through his hair, playing with his curls as he kissed her.

"I… should really go check and see if Hodges has any results on that ring."

"It can wait." Grissom said, taking a breath before giving Sara another long, deep kiss. She could feel her knees weakening as he pressed her against the wall. It would be so easy to just keep sinking into this kiss, the pressure of his body… she could feel him growing hard against her hip.

"Down, boy," she said, pushing away slightly, "You can't wait until the end of shift?"

He pulled away, reluctantly.

"You're right," he said, before giving her another kiss, "I'll just have to control myself."

"You're good at that," Sara teased.

"I _was_ good at that, my dear, but you seem to have opened the floodgates." He went for her neck again, and Sara felt her resolve crumbling. She drew in a long breath that came out in a moan.

"Now stop," she said, pulling away again. He gave her a sad little boy frown before giving her up.

"Later," she said, "I promise."

"I plan to hold you to that," He said as he smoothed his jacket. Sara patted her hair smooth and readjusted her scarf. Grissom reached over and pulled the scarf to cover the mark he'd left on her neck. He opened the door to the file storage room and looked out.

"Coast is clear," he said, and after Sara walked out, he locked the door. He took advantage of the empty hallway and the cover provided by Sara's jacket to lay his hand on the small of her back.

They walked together through the lab, discussing the O'Neill case, until they reached the trace lab, where Hodges was engrossed in coloring his hair with a black marker.

"Vanity, thy name is Hodges," Grissom said, and Sara smiled.

"This… isn't what it looks like. I actually like my grey hair. The few that I have." Hodges looked embarrassed.

"Hodges," Sara said, smiling, "Don't you know that grey hair can be very attractive?"

Later, at the end of shift, Sara walked into Grissom's office to find him reading Lois O'Neill's book, the one she'd autographed for Greg.

"I saw Greg on his way out," Sara commented, "He looked like he was on his way to see Sinatra at the Sands."

Grissom nodded, smiling up at her as he put the book down.

"Are you… ready to go?" Sara asked, glancing around to see if anyone was within hearing range, "I was told I have something to finish..."

He slipped a few files and the book into his briefcase.

"I am," he said, "Let's go, my dear, for the best is yet to come."

"_Kiss Kiss, Bye Bye"_

* * *

"That little girl… was a bitch." Sara took another long swig of her glass of wine, and Grissom raised an eyebrow at her.

"Somehow I never thought I would hear you describe a child that way." He sounded surprised, and a bit disappointed, but Sara shook her head.

"That girl is no child. She's pure evil wrapped in the body of a twelve year old."

"Sara…" he stopped. He was used to Sara being affected by the cases she worked on, that wasn't unusual. This case, however, seemed to have dug into her skin. He had hoped taking her out for dinner at their favorite restaurant might help cheer her up – it had worked in the past – but before he had realized it, she had downed several glasses of wine and was well on her way to a tirade. Tipsy Sara was an honest Sara, and that wasn't always a good thing.

"What?" she asked, glaring at him, "You think I'm wrong. You still don't think she did it."

"What I think is irrelevant."

"Not to me."

"I think… I think she's troubled, certainly. I don't know if she's a murderer, though. After all, she told you Marlon did it, didn't she?"

Sara shook her head and finished the glass of wine in one gulp, "I wouldn't believe a word she says. Even if she didn't do it… she knew _exactly_ how to manipulate everyone involved. She's a sociopath."

"I think that may be a premature judgment."

Sara made a face at him.

"She'll be back," Sara said, still angry, "I know she will. Someone else will get in her way. Something else will happen."

"Are you finished?" he asked. Sara had barely touched her dinner, even though she'd ordered her favorite – pasta primavera.

"Yes," Sara snapped, then sighed, "I'm sorry. I haven't exactly been good company tonight, have I?"

"Well," he said thoughtfully, "You're good company most nights."

Sara sighed again.

"Let's go," she said, standing as he took the receipt from the bill folder and tucked his credit card back in his wallet.

Sara managed to keep her balance on the way out of the restaurant, but stumbled on the curb as they entered the parking lot. Grissom reached out and grabbed her arm to keep her from falling.

"Watch it, there," he said, and Sara glared at him before yanking her arm away.

"I'm fine," she said, "Let me go."

He did. Sara got in the car and slammed the door - much harder than necessary.

"And another thing," Sara said as he started the car, "Why can't you back me up one goddamn time? Just one fucking time?"

Grissom looked over at her, startled.

"What are you talking about?"

"You know good and damn well what I'm talking about," Sara gave him another glare, "Don't give me that clueless act."

"Sara, it's not an act. Right now I am genuinely clueless."

"Yeah, well, you're good at that." Sara said, turning to look out the window.

"Sara…" he stopped before continuing, thinking back to dinner. He'd lost track of how many glasses of wine she'd ordered, and he hadn't thought to check the bill – although he had noticed it was more expensive than usual. He did some quick calculations in his head and realized she must have ordered close to a full bottle.

Sara wasn't simply tipsy, she was honest-to-goodness drunk.

In the year that they'd been together, he hadn't seen Sara drink that often. She was understandably cautious after that near-DUI she'd had, but even that, he knew, was more the result of a bad decision brought on by stress than an indicator of a serious problem.

"You're great at being clueless," Sara continued, her words catching slightly, "You really are. I am so stupid to think you would ever – ever – just for once, stick up for me."

He could think of a few occasions where he had, in fact, taken Sara's side, but he knew that bringing them up now would not be a good idea.

"You have nothing to say." Sara turned to look at him, "Nothing at all. Why am I not surprised?"

"Sara…"

"Sara, Sara, Sara…" Sara repeated, "I love how the only thing you can think of to say half the time is my name."

"Well…" he began, but Sara interrupted him.

"I am so sick of this," she said, "I'm sick of you right now."

"Well, that was uncalled for," he said quietly, feeling a bit hurt.

"Yeah, you would think so," Sara folded her arms across her chest and stared out the window.

This, he thought, was what Catherine had once referred to as a "car fight." At the time he had no idea what she was talking about, but now he could see it – although he had no intention of telling Sara to get out of the car. It wouldn't have done any good anyhow – she could just walk, they were a block away from home by this point.

He pulled the car into the garage, and almost before he had turned the ignition off, Sara had yanked her door open, climbed out, and slammed it shut. She stomped off towards the door, her shoes clacking on the concrete. Grissom followed her, although with much less emphasis.

Sara opened the door and turned around.

"And another thing," she yelled, loud enough to be heard throughout the building, "Let me tell you something – I don't _need_ you, Gil Grissom."

Sara punctuated this comment by slamming the door – again – and stomping up the stairs, stumbling once or twice on her way up.

Grissom followed her, hoping she wouldn't trip and take them both down the stairs.

Sara reached their door and fumbled with her key for the few moments it took Grissom to pull his own key and open the door. Sara looked irritated by the fact that he'd done it for her, and she stormed through the apartment and into the bedroom the minute the door was open.

Wham! Yet another door slammed shut. He'd lost count of how many doors Sara had punished in the past ten minutes. He decided it was best not to go after her – if she wanted to sulk, let her. It was better than following her into an argument he could not hope to win, or even keep track of.

They didn't argue often – and even when they did, they rarely raised their voices. Sara had once described one of their arguments as "a futile attempt to out-logic one another," and it was a description he had to agree with. Even so, human relationships did not always conform to logic, and theirs was no exception. Like tonight, nothing about this made any sense. Why pick a fight with him when she was really frustrated and angry about something entirely different?

Well, there was the wine.

He was more worried, really, than angry – Sara was good at making him worry. He decided to poke his head in the bedroom, just to see if she was all right. He hoped that she wouldn't order him out and slam the door – the couch was not a comfortable place to sleep for more than a few hours.

Sara was lying on their bed, staring up at the ceiling, still dressed in her clothes from dinner, right down to her shoes. She barely seemed to notice when he walked in.

"Sara?" He asked.

"The room is spinning," Sara said, without taking her eyes off of the ceiling.

"Well, that can happen," he said, gently pulling her shoes off.

"She is nothing like me," Sara said, "Nothing."

"Did you think she was?" he asked.

"Yeah, I did. For a minute. I actually thought…" Sara sighed deeply, "I think I'm an idiot."

"You're not." he said, "You're human."

"You've said that before," Sara rolled over and groaned, "And I think I'm an even bigger idiot for having that last glass of wine."

He nodded in sympathetic agreement.

"I promise - next time we go out to dinner, I'll be much better."

"Next time?" he asked, then smiled in response to Sara's widening eyes.

"Don't tease me," Sara moaned, burying her face in the pillow so her next words were muffled, "Don't you think I'm suffering enough?"

"You'll suffer more tomorrow," he said. Sara moaned into the pillow again.

"I'm sorry I took it out on you," she said, her face still buried.

"I'll blame the wine," Grissom said.

"Blame Hannah West," she murmured into the pillow.

"I'll blame the wine," he repeated, and Sara raised her head and looked at him.

"She's going to do it again."

"We'll see."

"No, I know it." Sara insisted, "And it will be worse."

He wanted to tell her to shake it off, but it would be hypocritical. He'd had cases that had affected him just as badly, victims that had haunted him, perps that got away.

This one would haunt Sara, he knew it.

"I hope not," was all he could think to say.

"Me too," Sara sighed, rolling on to her back and covering her face with her arms.

"I'm going to go take care of a few things," he said.

"Hmm." Sara muttered.

He checked to make sure the front door was locked, that everything was turned off in the kitchen, the normal things he checked each night.

When he came back to the bedroom, Sara was still lying on her back, still wearing her clothes – and so soundly asleep that she had started snoring.

She had fallen asleep on top of the comforter, so he took a blanket from the closet and draped it over her. He knew how it felt to take a case to heart, to let someone get under your skin. Maybe she hadn't dealt with it in the best way tonight, but it was an unusual case, and her unusual reaction was… understandable.

Maybe she was wrong about Hannah. Sara's instincts were usually good, but not perfect. She had made a few missteps, just like they all had.

But if she wasn't, he hoped Sara would never find out she had been right.

"_The Unusual Suspect"_


End file.
